Daughter of Fire
by DragonsAreMyLIFE
Summary: Alina, Ana and Kristoff's daughter, has always been second-best. Her twin, Klaus, inherited Elsa's powers, and will receive the kingdom when he comes of age. She's only the ungifted daughter. But all that is going to change the night she and her brother turn thirteen.
1. Prologue

Elsa listened to the ominous silence behind the door, her hands clenched, eyes closed. _Ana's fine,_ she whispered to herself. _She's fine._ Still, the fear swirled within her, belying the fact that she didn't believe the words. Not really. _She's fine,_ Elsa reproached herself sharply, digging her nails into her hands. "My Queen?" a timid voice inquired. Elsa opened her eyes, and realized the reason for the fear in the attendant's hazel eyes. A glaze of frost radiated outward from her white-knuckled fists where they rested, turning the mahogany table a clouded shade of glacial white. "I'm sorry," the queen reassured her subject, willing the ice to disappear, a slight frown tinging her features. It had been nearly four years since The Great Freeze, (as Arendelle had taken to calling it), and she had thought she had gained mastery over the power that tingled in her fingertips. But now, her powers had rebelled, increasing in proportion to her fear. "Your sister," the servant blurted, eyes still fixed on the table, hands twisting nervously. "She's asking for you." Elsa took a deep breath, fixing her eyes on the door. Its white and blue patterns seemed a bad omen, a reminder of the room where she had spent her childhood. Why Ana had chosen here, out of all the rooms of the castle, Elsa had no idea. She could feel cold thickening in the air around her as she walked, and willed herself to hold it together. Ana was fine. She was awake, asking to see Elsa. Still, despite her mental reassurances, another kingdom-freezing accident seemed to loom more and more likely as she approached the room. She grasped the doorknob, thankful as the burnished bronze retained its ice-free appearance, and pushed it inwards, stepping into the bedchamber. "Elsa!" Her sisters happy voice echoed through the cozy room, tinged with exhaustion and unmistakable joy. Elsa let out a relieved breath as she met Ana's exuberant blue gaze. "Look!" "I see," Elsa whispered softly, gazing at the small bundle in her sisters arms, swathed in white cloth. Elsa couldn't help but laugh. She hurried to her sister's side, knelt by the edge of the bed, gazing at her niece. "This is Alina," Ana declared, displaying the girl. Her strong features resembled Kristoff's, but the hair that already coated her skull was the same vibrant shade of scarlet as her mother's. "She's beautiful," Elsa whispered. Ana nodded, happily gazing down at her daughter. Then she grinned mischievously. "And this is Klaus!" Kristoff, who was slumped in a chair on the other side of the bed, looked up. In his arms was another small bundle. Elsa gasped. "Twins?" Ana nodded, pride evident in her tired eyes. "Would you like to hold him?" Elsa nodded incredulously, and stood, stumbling over to Kristoff. She cradled her nephew awkwardly in her arms. An odd sense of recognition flooded her as she looked down at the slumbering infant, and it took her a moment to realize why. "He looks just like-" "Dad." Ana finished for her. Elsa stared back down at him, and her hands tingled, just as they did whenever she used her powers. The tingling rushed through her whole body, and for a moment, the world flashed into a different color spectrum. Kristoff and Ana glowed a dull gray, Ana's tinged with the faintest hint of crimson. Her own hands blazed blue, the child in them rapidly turning from gray to glacial blue. The girl cradled in Ana's arms gleamed the same tone as her mother, but as Elsa watched, she flickered into a striking crimson hue. Elsa's vision throbbed and pulsed, then settled back to normal. Ana and Kristoff seemed oblivious to the world's transformation, still looking up at her expectantly. Elsa looked back down at the boy in her arms, and shuddered. She had done something to him, something to both of Ana's children. Trying to stay calm, she faked a smile and handed the boy back to Ana. "Do you want to hold Alina, too?" Ana asked eagerly. Elsa shook her head, hoping that she hadn't offended her sister. "I think I need to go," she muttered. "Kai wanted me to work on some trade agreements with Weselton-they've sent a diplomat asking to resume trade." She backed out of the room, barely holding up the facade of normalcy. She managed to make it back to her room before she panicked. Flopping onto her bed, she stared up at the canopy of ice she'd conjured for it, running her fingers through her loose hair in frustration. Something had happened, she knew, but what? What had she done to her sisters children?


	2. Chapter 1: Thirteen

_His flame seared the night skies into a display more beautiful than the lights of the tundra. His scales were the molten gold of the sun, his eyes a blue more dazzling than the sea, brighter than ice. His wings, when he spread them, cast no shadow, for a light came from within them that cast beautiful patterns over the world when he soared above it. His voice spoke of wonders beyond the knowledge of any man, in harmonies more beauteous than a human voice could ever hope to achieve. He was the greatest of all the dragons, and his name was-_ "Alina!" The call jolted Alina out of her reverie, and she reluctantly let the book slam closed, the story it promised slipping away and leaving her alone with the realities of life. She slotted it back into its place, and peered down from her perch in the highest shelf of the castle library. Klaus grinned up at her from the floor, his blue eyes gleaming in the reflected light of the lantern he hoisted in one hand. "Come down! Mamma wants us to get ready for the ball." Alina cast a regretful glance at the volume, then replied. "Alright. Give me, like, five minutes. Please?" Blue light exploded before her eyes, flakes of snow puffing around her. Frost crept over the shelf, chaining the manuscript to the wood. "Klaus!" Alina practically screamed with exasperation. Her twin laughed. "Sorry, Ally. Mamma said now." Rolling her eyes at the nickname, Alina kicked out, latching her foot around a nearby ladder and dragging it closer. She slid down it in moments, landing less than gracefully on the thick carpet. "There. I'm down. Now unfreeze that book right now, or so help me-" Klaus snapped his fingers. The ice trickled back down, forming a snowflake that danced along Alina's nose before vanishing. Alina batted at Klaus' arm. "Stop showing off." Her older brother laughed. "Hey, just doing your bidding." She smacked him again, harder this time. "Ow," he winced. "That one hurt." "Good." Alina declared resolutely, crossing her arms and marching past him, out of the library door. She slammed the heavy oak portal behind her, and stalked angrily towards her chambers, muttering to herself as she went. "Stupid Klaus, with his stupid ice powers. That was the best part yet-and he had to go and ruin it." She stormed into her room, and froze. Arms crossed, chocolate-brown eyes narrowed furiously, her mother's head maidservant waited in the middle of the chamber. "Hello?" Alina tried. One black eyebrow shot up. "How are you?" she attempted weakly. The iron stare remained locked on her. Alina admitted defeat, letting her shoulders sag. "What did I do now?" The portly woman threw her hands up in disgust. "I have two hours to get you ready for the ball. Two hours! This is the celebration of your thirteenth birthday, and your mother wants you decently presentable. And you have the nerve to show up like-like this?" Alina shuffled her bare feet uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Dikka. I just didn't-" "Didn't think about the poor maidservant who'd have to clean you up? What on earth were you doing? Dust in your hair and cobwebs on your face! Can't you make an effort to stay clean?" Still berating the princess, Dikka descended on her. She pulled the grime-stained blue dress off of Alina, leaving her shivering in her thin underclothes. "Now get into the bath right now! I'm going to hunt down something suitable for you to wear." Alina opened her mouth to protest, knowing the servant's idea of _suitable_, but the woman silenced her with a baleful glare. She snapped her jaw shut and hurried into the bathroom, where a steaming tub of water awaited her.

Alina stared in consternation at the girl gazing back at her from the silvery surface of the mirror. Her crimson hair was swirled in an intricate braid that hung midway down her back, not a strand out of place. A glittering gold circlet rested on the crown of her head, studded with emeralds, the jewel her parents had chosen for her symbol on the day of her christening. Thick black eyeliner defined her viridescent eyes, making them even more striking against the cream-white background of her face. A slender gold chain wound around her neck, a silver pendent in the shape of a crocus resting on the skin exposed by a neckline of a dress that swooped far too low. The dress itself was oppressively grand, hugging close to her skin to outline every curve, with sleeves that left her shoulders exposed, ample skirts that flared out around her feet, and delicate patterns of silver thread. The spring-green fabric rustled with every step she took. The girl turned an incredulous stare on Dikka, who was nodding approvingly. "Do you honestly expect me to wear this?" The maidservant crossed her arms. "You are a princess of Arendelle-" "Who no one even cares about," Alina muttered darkly. Dikka cleared her throat and resumed her sentence. "You are Arendelle's princess, and today you will act like one. On other days, you can cavort with the arachnids in the castle library, or run through the village in disguise, or-or dye your hair green-" Alina couldn't suppress a grin at the memory. "But today," the matron finished, her dark eyes menacing, "You will act as though you cared about your title!" Alina heaved an irritated sigh, and turned away from the mirror. "Fine. But when tonight is over, I get to burn the dress." "Absolutely not!" The servant's hand cuffed the back of Alina's head, and the adolescent flinched. "This was a gift from the prince of the Southern Isles! And you want to burn it?" Rubbing her scalp, Alina muttered a vague affirmation. "Good, now-" Dikka was interrupted by an impatient rapping on the door. She traipsed over to it, eyeing Alina as if worried she would be able to damage the outfit if she took her gaze off her for even a second, and yanked it open. An aging steward stood, hands folded behind his back, dark azure coat impeccable. He cleared his throat pompously. "The queen," he announced. "Requires the presence of her eldest daughter in the throne room, to commence the festivities." Dikka gestured to Alina. "Go!" she hissed. Alina wobbled out the door, precarious in the heeled shoes she had been forced into. Her servant's parting words echoed through the hall: "And don't you **dare** mess up that dress."

Alina was just beginning to master the art of balancing in the ridiculous footwear she was wearing, when a blue-eyed bundle careened into her, squealing happily as she sent her sister crashing to the hard marble of the ballroom floor. "Ow," Alina muttered, pushing the exhilarated child off of her. "Happy birthday!" The eleven-year-old girl bounded back, grinning wildly as Alina pulled herself to her feet. "You're thirteen! And you're having a ball." She frowned, her lower lip jutting outwards. "I wish I were having a ball. I would dance with everyone...And then I'd get Mamma to let me play the piano, and one of the visiting princes would be impressed at my musicality...And he'd ask me to dance...And we'd talk all evening." Alina couldn't help but smile at her little sister's enraptured tone. "Calm down, Selene. You'll have your own ball soon enough." "I know," Selene admitted. "But I want one now." Alina chuckled at her pout. "Ooh," Selene exclaimed, spinning exuberantly. "Did you see Klaus yet? He looks stunning." "Stunning?" Alina teased. "You've been reading too many romance novels." "For your information, I have to. The tutor says they're classics." Alina giggled, reaching over to tousle Selene's hair-cropped barely long enough to swing around her chin. "Hmm. And I'm sure this enthusiasm for romance doesn't have anything to do with Keith, does it?" Selene dived into the new topic with gleaming eyes. "Maybe! Guess what, guess what?" She cupped a hand around Alina's ear. "He kissed me! Yesterday! Right-there!" She prodded Alina's cheek. "Really?" Alina played along. "Yes!" Selene twirled in a giddy circle. Quickly realizing that this was a topic that could potentially keep her standing here for hours, Alina glanced around for an escape. One waddled by in the form of a miniature snowman, wandering past under a swirling snow flurry. "Why don't you go tell Olaf about it?" she suggested, steering the love-dazzled girl towards the squat snowman. "Alright," Selene agreed dreamily. Alina laughed as she watched her accost the magical creature with her typical manic energy, and was still chuckling as she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to face her father. "How's my girl?" he asked, grinning. "Which one?" Alina replied. Kristoff chuckled, and gathered his older daughter into an embrace. "Happy birthday, sweetheart," he whispered. "I hope you don't hate the dress too much." Alina wrapped her arms tighter around her father, then reluctantly pulled away and looked up at him. "Where's Sven?" "Down in the stables-your mother refused to let him in the castle for the ball." His light brown eyes twinkled with a mixture of affection and mischief. "I'll probably sneak down there and comfort him soon enough. I never did like balls much anyway." "At least stay for the cake?" Alina pleaded. He winked. "There's cake? Where?" Alina laughed lightly. "I should probably go find Mamma." "If you do, tell her that I'll be eating the cake!" Kristoff called over his shoulder as Alina darted away. She threaded through the growing crowd of nobles, accepting congratulations and birthday wishes, finally stumbling clear of the crowd, onto the royal dais. "There you are!" Her mother sidled up to her, surveying the festivities happily. "Do you like it?" Alina snorted. "I'd like it a lot more if I wasn't wearing this dress." Her mother laughed. "It was a gift from-" "One of the princes of the Southern Isles. I know." "Cheer up," Ana instructed the princess. "Have you seen your father?" "He's eating the cake. Or liberating Sven." "Hmm, I'll just have to find someone else to dance with." "Dance?" "Well, as soon as the musicians start playing." Alina sighed. Sometimes she wished she was more like her outgoing mother, like her little sister, but she had never had that much enthusiasm, that much sheer joy for everything going on around her. "Happy birthday, dear." Ana spun off, in the direction of the band, positioning their instruments in one of the corners of the room. A quiet laugh came from behind her, and she whirled, the skirt spinning with her and nearly toppling her over. "How's that dress, Alina?" Klaus leaned against a wall, arms crossed, sapphire eyes brimming with laughter. "Horrid," Alina muttered. "You have no idea how much I am hating Dikka right now." "Don't abuse the poor maidservant-blame the prince who sent it." "Easy for you to say," Alina retorted, surveying his glacial-blue suit, with snow-white epaulets and mother-of-pearl hued buttons. "Your outfit isn't heavier than you." Klaus chuckled, his laugh mingling with the music that sprung up, a slow waltz. Couples swarmed to the dance floors, gentlemen and ladies twirling in intricate patterns. She caught a glimpse of her mother and father, swaying gently in time to the music, and Selene swinging Olaf wildly around the room, giggling happily. "Care to dance, Ally?" Klaus asked. Alina shook her head, and he shrugged. "Your loss." He sidled into the dance, claiming a partner with ease. Alina sighed, and slid into her throne, shifting uncomfortably on the hard wood. "Don't worry-I don't dance either." Alina turned to face the speaker. Her aunt Elsa perched regally on a throne of her own creation, lavender-tinted ice that gleamed spectacularly in the torchlight. Her dress, a pure white creation that slid over her elegantly and loosely, accentuated her large eyes, and her loose curtain of white-blond hair outlined her elfin features perfectly. "Happy birthday," the queen added. Alina smiled, and opened her mouth to respond, when something in her throbbed. Suddenly, the music seared through her skull like a white-hot branding iron. The torches seemed to flare upwards, sending the heat spiking into her, and the colors of the world became painfully bright. Every gasping breath she took resounded loudly through her head. Her aunts voice, barely audible, seemed impossibly slow as she stood, grasping Alina and asking if she was alright. For a moment, the world faded to a brilliant blood-red. Suddenly, Alina's head settled, and the world returned to normal. "Alina?" Elsa was clutching her arm, staring at her concernedly. Alina forced a smile. "I'm fine. I'm sorry, I don't know what happened." Elsa held her niece's gaze for an instant, disbelief written on her features. Then she released Alina. "Should I tell your mother?" She shook her head. "I'm fine. Really." But she couldn't help wondering, as Elsa settled back into her throne, still eyeing Alina warily, if she really was.


	3. Chapter 2: Cave of Embers

"_Alina!" Klaus' voice was tortured, his eyes gleaming with agony, tears pouring from them down his agonized face. The tatters of his sea-blue suit clung to his arms, singed and charred. Angry scarlet burns mottled his pale skin. "How could you do this?" Alina stared speechless at her burning brother. "I didn't-" she began. "Look at your hands." Klaus' pained voice was an accusing growl. Alina stared down at her limbs in bewilderment and gasped. Joyous fire danced gold across them, identical to the flames binding Klaus. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't-I'm sorry, Klaus! I don't know how to stop it!" "Then I'll have to do it for you," he whispered, his voice barely recognizable under layers of hatred and fear. Alina glanced back at him, and screamed. The chains of fire were freezing, becoming brittle links of ice that snapped and freed Klaus. Eyes darkened with fury, he lunged. Thousands of daggers of ice moved with him, and plunged into Alina, sending her staggering back. The last thing she saw as the world began to fade was the accusing look in Klaus' eyes. The last word framed on his lips: "Monster." _

Alina jolted awake, beads of cold sweat coating her skin. Her jade-green eyes, dazed and clouded with sleep, flitted around the bedchamber, probing the shadows that gathered in the far corners. As her racing heart settled, and the dregs of her nightmare dispersed, she heaved a sigh of relief, realizing that the terrifying dream had been just that. A dream. Brushing stray auburn hairs off her forehead, she slipped back down, letting her head sink back into the feathery depths of the pillow. Her eyes slipped out of focus, fluttering closed. As she sunk back into the depths of sleep, her palms glowed a vibrant gold, wisps of smoke swirling up from the flames that traced her hands in interweaving patterns of orange and yellow.

Alina twisted around in front of the mirror, surveying her disguise, checking for flaws or imperfections. She had discarded her royal finery for a simple white blouse and heavy gray canvas skirt. Her distinctive red hair was twisted into a bun that was concealed below a poorly-woven headscarf. Charcoal smeared over her eyebrows transformed them to a heavy black, and streaks of dirt completed her guise as a villager. She flashed her transformed reflection a mischievous grin, and slipped out of her chambers. Stealing through the empty hallways, she crept to the nearly deserted secondary stables, home to the horses that had not been deemed worthy for the royal family, designated for use by the castle staff. She darted into the tack room, and pulled her saddle off the shelf. One of the grooms, lounging against the wall, nodded to her. "Don't stay out too long, my lady." "Don't worry," Alina reassured him, still regretting the necessity of telling him her true identity. True, if she hadn't, she wouldn't have been permitted to take one of the horses out, but still, it made the disguise seem a little pointless. Carrying the black leather saddle with her, along with two simple, unadorned saddle pads, she slipped into one of the stalls. Rowan, a short sorrel, with orange mane and tail, looked up and whickered softly. "Hello," Alina muttered, settling the saddle pads onto his back, and heaving the saddle over them. She deftly slid the bridle onto his head, and gathered the reins in her hands. She led him out of the stable, which opened to the rear of the castle, towards the green fields and mountains that were mostly uninhabited. She placed one foot in the stirrup, and swung herself up, settling into the plain leather saddle. She gathered the reins into her hands, and urged the horse into a gallop. He took off, thundering over the heather, and Alina whooped. She let him gallop in circling swoops through the meadow for a while, then slowed him to a trot and directed him towards the mountains, where the icy peak of the North Mountain towered over the rest. Posting smoothly, she scanned the horizon until her eyes locked on a rising foothill, shadows clotting over a small circle of its interior. She grinned-just where the book had said it would be. The Cave of Embers, apparently named for a dragon that had long ago dwelt in its depths. She slowed Rowan to a walk, and pulled him to a halt in front of the cave, slipping off his back. She unlatched his bridle, and clipped his lead rope onto the bottom of the halter she had left on beneath the bridle. A stream babbled past the cave, something she hadn't been expecting, and she led him to the cool water. Gratefully, he dipped his mouth in and gulped down the flowing snow-melt. She waited until he snorted and lifted his head, stepping back from the stream, until she moved, leading him back towards the cave. Deftly, she knotted him to a nearby tree, and slid the bridle into one of the unmarked saddle-bags resting on his back. From the same saddle bag, she extracted an unlit torch, and a packet of matches, sliding the latter into one of the pockets of her skirt. She left Rowan browsing for grass at the foot of the tree, and stepped into the cave. A cool draft rushed over her, and she shuddered, wondering just how far into the mountain the cave reached. She inched further, led by the dim light from the noon-day sun outside. Suddenly, a wall of rock slammed into her, and she winced, pushing back from the rough surface. Trailing a hand along the wall, she discovered a turn, one that would take her away from the light of the sun. Shivering, she rummaged through the pocket of her skirt until her fingers brushed the packet of matches, and she extracted it, striking one and holding the flickering flame to the wick of the lamp. It burst into fire, casting a dim ochre glow over the rocky floor. With one nervous look back towards the opening of the cave, Alina turned deeper into the cave and its darkness.

She had been wandering for what seemed like hours, occasionally pausing to mark her turns on a piece of parchment she had scrounged from the pocket of her skirt, and the stub of a burned match. She was beginning to wonder if she should go back, staring at the increasingly long list of turns and wondering how long she had been in the cave, when the voice spoke. "Hello." Alina screamed, the lamp falling from her hands and shattering on the floor. Oil spread quickly, and a wall of greedily hissing flame leapt up. Alina peered into the darkness, but the dim light of the fire only reached a few inches into the shadows. "Who's there? Who are you?" Her voice wobbled with panic. "I don't think you're the one to be asking that question." Something about the melodic voice that replied intrigued Alina, and she scrutinized the shadows, hoping for a clearer glimpse of whatever was there. "Whyever not?" The voice laughed musically. "You did just set my home on fire." "Your home?" "Well, hermitage may be a more apt description, but yes." "You're a hermit?" Alina shifted curiously closer, then leapt back as the flames hissed towards her dress. "In a way. I'm also a historian, and a storyteller." "A storyteller?" Alina asked curiously. Storytellers were usually welcome in the villages, provided with lodging, and respected for their skill. Why one would be here, in this remote cave, she had no idea. "I was trained as one, yes," the voice responded, and Alina started. She had almost forgotten her question. "But I found that the life of wandering through the villages was not for me, and I settled here." Alina couldn't help but smile. "In the Cave of Embers?" The voice chuckled as well. "I must admit, as a storyteller, the history appealed to me." The panic of moments before forgotten, Alina felt herself relaxing. "So, storyteller, what is your name?" "My name, my lady, is Wyst." "Wyst?" Alina frowned. "Yes. And yours?" "Alina?" Curiosity sparked in Wyst's voice. "Alina, as in Her Royal Highness Alina, princess of the realm of Arendelle?" "Yes," Alina sighed. "You know," Wyst murmured, there is a story about Arendelle's royals. A very ancient one indeed." Interest piqued, Alina inched closer, to the flames that formed a barrier between the two, and settled onto the cave floor, smoothing her skirts. "Will you tell it to me?" "Of course, my lady." Wyst's musical voice deepened, and the world around Alina seemed to melt away as he began the story.

_Long ago, this realm was not the land of humans, but of the magical beings that had been driven from other realms by the ferocious human kings. Seeking refuge, they fled here-trolls, to gather in the famed Valley of Living Rock, dragons, to congregate in the mountains that towered over the land, and forest spirits to claim their trees and territories in the wide woods. They did not call this land Arendelle, but instead Dyrethjem, which in their language meant Beasthome. The few humans who did dare to dwell here cowered in caves, not daring to emerge during the night, lest they be claimed by the creatures of magic. But everything changed for the suffering humans, when the Arren arrived. They were not human themselves, but could easily pass for a human. The only thing that distinguished them was the ability that they were born with. The ability to control the core elements of Earth. There were five of them, at first, two male and two female, and each spoke to a different part of the world. One, who legend dubs Aodh, spoke to the fire, commanded it and it did his bidding. His sister, Assana, was the opposite of the fiery-tempered Aodh, and commanded the waters, every droplet that was liquid. Their cousin, Isole, was cool and aloof, and controlled the ice that her cousin somehow lacked the ability to direct. Along with them came another family, the twins Avani and Anil, who commanded earth and wind, respectively. They traveled to the land, fleeing a great catastrophe in their home, and they went to the ruler of the dragons, whom they deemed to be the strongest of the inhabitants of Dyrethjem. But the dragon king, Argent, was cruel, and proud. He refused to offer them hospitality, declaring them no better than the humans that groveled before them. There, in the high, vaulted halls of the dragon stronghold, the Arenn swore a horrible revenge upon the dragons. They warned the king one time more, but still he refused to yield. And so, the Arenn sought out the humans, whom they had heard lived like rats, avoiding the greater forces that ruled over them. It was long and hard work to convince the humans to stop hiding, to become civilized, and congregate. But finally, the Arren managed it. They now headed a vast army of humans, organized, with weapons that Avani and Aodh had taught them how to smelt, combining their powers. The humans had been held down for years by the Dyret, and when they finally rebelled, their vengeance was ferocious. Leading them, seemingly everywhere, unstoppable, were the Arenn. Their formidable powers decimated the ranks of the Dyret, Anil buffeting griffins from the sky, Aodh stealing the flame of the dragons, Isole freezing soldiers in place, Avani sending their troops tumbling to their deaths at the centers of earthquakes, Assana flooding lands, or controlling the water in the very blood of their enemy's veins. It took long, for the Dyret were mighty, and had ruled for centuries. But finally, their leader was captured. Bound by chains of every element, swirling together, wings pinned to his sides, Argent was brought before the new rulers of the land. The Arenn mocked him-had they not said they would have their revenge? The once-mighty king begged for his life, much as the Arenn had once begged for a chance to live theirs. They answered him the same way he had, all those years ago. All their powers combined were enough to pierce the scales of even the eldest and strongest of the dragons. And so, the land of Dyrethjem was won for the humans. The Arren were crowned rulers of the kingdom, and Dyrethjem became Arenndale, and, slowly, Arendelle. The royal family, over time, stopped using their powers, and their children ceased to have them. Eventually, even the royals forgot the power they once had, their inhuman ancestry. But someday, there will come a day when the Arenn bloodline will run strong in one of them, and they will again show the humans the true power of the Arenn. _"But that's already happened!" Alina interrupted. "Has it?" Wyst responded, unperturbed. "Yes! Elsa, and Klaus-they have the ice, just like Isole!" Then she froze. "But ice isn't all." Ever since her birth, they had thought that Klaus had inherited the ice from Elsa, that ice ran in the family. But this story-there were other powers too. Other elements. Alina thought of the dream she'd had, of the fire that had trickled around her, and she shuddered, barely wrenching herself out of her thoughts in time to realize that Wyst was still speaking. "-how I was taught the story. Regardless of what has happened now, one can hardly change the story." Alina mumbled an agreement, her mind still jumbled. She knew she had touched on something important, her heart was racing and every inch of skin was tingling, but she needed more time-time to understand exactly what. "Wyst," she interrupted. "I have to leave. Now." "Alright, my lady." He seemed a bit taken aback at her abrupt change of tone, but agreed courteously. "If you would like another story, I'll be here." Alina was already gone, straining her eyes against the blackness, and trailing her hand against the wall, trying to remember the turns. She finally stumbled into the fading dusk-blindingly bright to her dark-accustomed eyes, and hurried towards Rowan, anxious to return home and mull over what, exactly, she had learned.


	4. Chapter 3: Chamber of Fire

Alina slammed the wood door and sunk to a crouch, leaning against the door. She buried her head in her hands, tuning out the sight of the shadow-dappled room, the fireplace empty. But pressing her palms against her face only emphasized the gold glow trickling over them, scorching it through her eyelids. She dragged the limbs in question away from her face and stared at the gold fire beading them. A memory flashed through her mind-_her hands, pressed against the window box of a cottage, heat suddenly surging through them. _Furiously, she banished the thought to the deepest corner of her mind. But the stench of smoke was rising off of the folds of her turquoise dress, and as it lingered in her nose, the memories pressed more insistently. She ground her teeth, frustrated, and another flashback encroached over the real world-_The acrid scent of smoke, a blistering heat that licked against her back, but somehow, did not burn her._ "No!" Alina hissed, but the memories were coming thick and fast now. _She turned, and saw the auburn flames crackling over the window box, withering flowers and charring the wooden frame-Her fists, pounding on the door, leaving charcoal-black scorch marks where they met the wood-Her voice, desperate: "Get out, get out, fire, get out!"-The screams, the family tearing out through the door, which the flames were beginning to consume-The thick pillar of smoke rising over the village as she stumbled blindly away, back towards the castle._ "Enough!" Alina slammed her fists angrily against the cobblestones of the floor, and a shower of gold sparks sprayed angrily upwards. She took a deep breath, hating the fear trembling in it. "Control yourself," she hissed angrily. The flames flickered along her fingertips, tracing them in gold, as if to mock her whispered commands. Alina stared down at them, terrified. The full impact of the day began to sink in, an utter feeling of hopelessness following on its tail, wrapping its arms around her. "What can I do?" she whispered. Her voice was barely questioning now, just bewildered, exhausted-terrified. "What can I do?" The tears pricked her eyes, and she let them fall, hugging her flame-shrouded hands closer to her body, beyond caring about the heat that no longer had the power to harm her. Alina surrendered to the tears, and as she did so, the flames climbed higher around her, until her silhouette was traced in a flickering gleam that seared the wood of the door she leaned against black and threw the shadows of everything in the room into massive dark shapes on the tapestry-hung walls. Except for Alina's. The fire licking over her obliterated her shadow entirely.


	5. Chapter 4: Fear

"Alina?" The girl sighed, and rolled away from the window, her tired eyes fixing on the door. She winced as her eyes caught on the charred black streaks across the wood, and responded dully. "I'm not coming out." "That's not what I want." The sudden recognition of the voice almost jolted Alina out of the stupor she had lain in for hours, sprawled across the bed, ignoring every servant and sibling that hammered against the door. The flames that still crawled across her hands flared brighter, and Alina took a deep breath, letting herself return to the emotionless, near-catatonic state that seemed to be the only thing that could stop the fire from raging out of control. "Queen Elsa?" Alina asked tonelessly. Elsa sighed, audible even through the thick door. "I want to tell you something. Hiding-it doesn't help. Not at all. It just makes it stronger, and even more uncontrollable when you come out. And you will come out-you can't hide forever." Alina laughed bitterly, and the fire on her fingertips flared towards the door, as if eager to burn the object of her annoyance. "You think you know what happened to me? You're wrong." Elsa took a steadying breath, echoing the one Alina drew shakily. "I'll leave you here for tonight. But, Alina-it doesn't help. Trust me. It doesn't." Retreating footsteps pattered against the hallway floor, and Alina angrily dashed away the tears trickling down her face. Elsa didn't understand. She couldn't, not with power over ice. Ice-it was cold, it was deadly in the heart, but did it burn with a single touch? No. Fire was so much more dangerous. And no one understood. No one even knew it was possible, no one except for-except for Wyst. Alina took a deep breath, rolled to her feet. Surely, if he knew the stories, then he would know something else, something, anything. She reached out a hand for the doorknob, and paused, staring at the way the flames gleamed on her hands, picturing the night hallways, fraught with servants bustling through the castle, cleaning the too-busy passageways, performing the tasks that they couldn't during the day. Alina gritted her teeth, and turned away from the door, towards the window.

"Don't look down," she chanted. "Don't look down." Instead, she fixed her gaze on her hands, on the black-and-red patterned gloves that clung to her fingers like a second skin. She forced herself to focus only on her hands, on the rhythm as they slid down the fraying rope, measured by the soft padding of her bare feet against the side of the tower. She winced as a jutting rock sliced against the sole of her foot, leaving a bloody streak against the tower wall, and glanced down, gauging the distance to the ground. The stone streets of Arendelle swam dizzily below her, shrouded by the darkness of the night. She fixed her eyes on the rope again. Hand over hand, she lurched towards the ground below. Finally, trembling from the strain, her feet met the cool cobbles of the outer courtyard of the palace. She collapsed, releasing the rope, and lay panting on the ground for several moments. Finally, she propped herself up, and rose wearily to her feet. She jammed her feet into a pair of boots pulled from the satchel on her back, tucking the black pants she had filched from Klaus into their tips. "Stables," she muttered, standing upwards, running a hand through her hair. A golden spark trickled out from a hole singed through the glove, and wove its way deep through the masses of her red hair. She turned, gaining her bearings, and hurried towards the stables, her booted feet clacking against the cobbles. Quickly, she slid into the derelict secondary stables, deserted at night. The horses were all dozing in their stalls, all but one. Arrow, a black-and-white patterned horse, sturdily built, paced nervously, his head jutting occasionally out over the gate of his stall. He was shorter than the tall, aristocratic horses enjoyed by the royal family, and his pinto coat was a pattern unappreciated by those who believed that army and royal horses should be solid colors. Nonetheless, he could ride steadily for miles, with speed equal to the army horses when necessary. Alina hurried to his stall. He snorted, and jolted back, his black nostrils flaring. One hazel eye rolled frantically, the horizontally shaped pupil afraid. "Shh, shh, boy," she soothed, extending her hands, and he reared back again. Alina swore silently, realizing that he could sense the fire on her fingertips. She folded her hands behind her back. "It's alright, boy. It's alright." Arrow backed slowly away, but finally allowed her to place a hand on his long face. "There," Alina murmured. "There." She hurriedly dragged a saddle to his stall, and fastened all the buckles and clips, grasping the reins tightly as she led him out of the stall, still half-afraid he would bolt. She swung easily into the saddle, and settled against it. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, and Arrow trotted out of the stable, into the fields behind the castle. The thudding of his hooves tore through the night as she urged him into a gallop.

"Wyst?" Alina called tentatively. She had reached the spot where she had stood last time she visited the hermit-the shattered remains of the lamp and the soot streaks on the floor testified to it. "Wyst?" she called again. There was a clattering from the back of the cave, and his musical voice spoke again. "Princess Alina? I must admit, I was not expecting you to want a story this late at night." "I'm sorry, Wyst. I shouldn't have come. I woke you, and it's so late-I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." Just like before, something about the cave was calming her, making her fears feel far away. "Don't worry about me," Wyst responded, amusement tinging his voice. "I have trouble sleeping, anyways. You might want to worry about your hair, however." "My hair?" "Yes," Wyst replied dryly. "It appears to be on fire." Alina ran her hands through her hair, dragging one of the once-red tresses before her eyes. Streaks of gold shot through it, and orange flames shrouded it, shimmering wildly but not burning away the hair. Alina let the flaming strands fall back into place, and looked towards the direction Wyst's voice was coming from hopelessly. "I don't know what to do. It started after you told me the story. I can't control it!" Panic was beginning to creep into her voice again. Wyst's voice was gentle. "Why did you come to me? Why not your aunt, or your brother? I'm sure they could help you control it." Alina took a steadying breath. "I don't-I can't. They wouldn't understand. And..." Her voice trailed off. "And?" Wyst prompted, his musical voice inquiring. "I don't want to hurt them." She winced, realizing what exactly those words implied-that she didn't mind hurting Wyst. To her relief, he didn't comment. "You want me to teach you to control it?" Wyst inquired. Alina nodded, with bated breath. "I don't know if I can," he mused. "Please," Alina plead. "I need to know how. So I don't hurt anyone I care about." "I can't teach you tonight, to control it. What will you do tomorrow? And the next day?" Alina gnawed her lip. "I don't know. I can't...Can I stay here?" "Here?" Alina flushed. "I don't want to go back unless I know that I'm safe. I don't want to-" her voice broke. "I'm just so afraid that I'll hurt them." "You know," Wyst said thoughtfully. "You would almost think you had never heard the story of your aunt. All she needed to control her powers was love...to stop being afraid of herself." Alina shook her head. "I asked her once. She told me-it wasn't that easy. She had to fight with it every day for months. It wasn't solved in an instant." There was a quiet sigh, and Wyst spoke again. "You can stay tonight. I will find a way to teach you in the morning-but you must go back after that." Alina's knees went weak with relief. A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her, and she sunk to her knees, the world fading to blackness before her. Just before her eyes closed, she thought she saw something stirring in the shadows, something massive and dark, but then she slumped into unconsciousness, and knew nothing more.


End file.
